


Calamity

by jencsi



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-20 14:49:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19994002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jencsi/pseuds/jencsi
Summary: Finn and Nick + thunderstorm= soft comforts times infinity.





	Calamity

He felt a pressure on his arm, like something, or in this case someone, was squeezing it. At first, he ignored it until he heard the faint whimper and cry of his name. In the back of his subconscious, he knew he had to wake up even if his body didn’t want to move. 

“What babe?” he whispered finally acknowledging her, knowing she was the source of the whimper and crushing of his arm.

“The storm,” she cried out, gripping his arm tighter at the same time trying to maneuver her way closer to him. 

When Nick finally opened his eyes, he was met with mostly darkness, save for the vivid flash of light visible from the window and the unmistakable low rumble of thunder a few seconds later. He groaned, dreading this but knowing it was inevitable. Silently, he turned over to face her and the window, lifting his arm to let her in where she wanted to be. She lurched forward, nestling herself right against him, feeling the urge to burrow into his arms and the bed as far as she could physically get. 

“I know,” he soothed, hating what this weather did to her. 

“Why does it always storm when we’re here?” she asked, muffled from where she hid in his arms “why is it always so bad?”

“Its just Texas darlin’, he reminded her quietly, his voice barely reaching the loudness of the heavy rain that began to pound the roof and windows. 

Despite his reassurances, she could not shake the overwhelming sense of panic rising in her chest. She felt vulnerable at night, susceptible to the terrors of the night; killers, violence, thunderstorms. They triggered some response in her that required soothing she could not give herself. She remembered being a child and fearing the storms that occasionally rolled through Philly during the hot summer months. But back then, hiding under the bed with her stuffed animals or seeking shelter with her parents eased the fear. As she got older, that fear decreased when she moved to Seattle which offered a milder climate. Recently, with the occasional trips to Texas to see Nick’s family, that fear was reignited. 

“I hate it,” she lashed out as more lighting illuminated their room. 

Nick knew she didn’t really hate the place he grew up, but it was hard for her to sleep through something like the storm. She could not tune out the noise the way he could. She had heightened senses of awareness since the coma which caused her grief in some instances like tonight. He watched her scrunch up her face, feeling her body tense up with each rumble of thunder, the storm was still only off in the distance and had another few minutes before it would arrive at full blast. He could not stand to see her this upset. He reached behind him and turned on the nightstand lamp to a dim setting so the room was still partially dark, but they would not be blinded by the lightning. Then he reached across the bed to the foot of it where they had piled all the extra pillows they did not need. He picked up three and rearranged them behind her back, so she had a wall, a shield of pillows to block out some of the noise. 

“What’s that for?” she asked, her voice trembling, squinting up at him with just one eye open, afraid she would see lightning in the split second she took to asses what he was doing.

“For you sweetness,” he said, tending to the blankets now, tucking them in tighter around her, knowing she would be likely to squirm her way out of them when she felt restless. 

Thunder cracked across the air as he settled back in bed with her, sliding his arms under and around her, pulling her against him. He could hear her breath catch in her chest as she stifled a whimper. 

“Don’t do that,” he scolded her of her trying to hide her fears “let it out, it’s okay to be scared.”

“I don’t want to be scared Nicky,” she admitted her pain to him “it’s just a stupid storm.”

At that point, the loudest thunder yet shook the entire house and she tucked her head under the covers, pressing her forehead hard against his chest. She reached down wildly for his hand and clumsily placed it over her ear to muffle the sound for what good it did. He was torn between letting her lay this way with her back to the windows, taking the brunt of the storms view for her sake rather than turn her a different way so he could have his back to the window and keep her from turning her head to look back at it. With her buried so rigidly in his arms, that premise seemed unlikely. A thought occurred to him as they lay there, a memory trickling back of his first time alone during a storm after recovering from the kidnapping and burial. He recalled the sudden onset of panic he felt alone in his house, wondering if the walls would collapse and trap him inside, the thunder was that intense. Luckily it passed quickly, unlucky for him, he was alone that night, no sweet Julie Finlay to lay with him, her body full of warmth and security he longed for. But she was here right now, granted she was also terrified, but she was here, her racing heart beating right in tune with his, her head overflowing with negative thoughts. 

“Baby,” he whispered now ready to share his realization with her “I want to tell you something.”

He moved his hand from her ear which she vehemently protested with a soul crushing whimper and a frantic motion trying to get him to put it back. 

“I want to tell you something,” he explained his choosing to take away her security for just a minute “listen, I know what you’re thinking.”

“That the house is going to explode?” she challenged him, daring to open her eyes and pierce him with a devilish look.

“Yes,” he admitted so bluntly it shocked her. She bit her lip, not sure what else to say to him except “how do you know?”

“Being buried alive kind of changes how you think about stuff you know?” he explained, and her heart ached for him, realizing he was just as scared as she was. 

“I’m sorry,” she sympathized, reaching up and instead of frantically searching for his hand, she took it and intertwined her fingers with his, trying to find the lines on his palm to trace like she usually did to comfort him. Here she was carrying on like a baby while he had demons just as hell bent as hers. 

“It’s okay,” he assured her, resting his hand on her back “I just wanted you to know, when I say I’ve got you, it means I’ll protect you from anything, nothing can hurt you when you’re with me, but also, I’ve got you to keep me safe too.” 

“Always,” she emphasized, bringing his hand up to kiss his fingers and nuzzle against him, wanting to make sure he knew she was just as capable of comforting him. 

In their moment of silence, lighting chose to streak violently again, and she was diving back into his arms, hiding her face into his chest. He couldn’t help but chuckle now at the way she hid so quickly. They were a perfect, albeit emotionally traumatized match made in heaven. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, patting her back a few times, absolutely, madly in love with her even in her moment of panic. 

“Hey,” he called out softly “have you ever tried counting the seconds between the lightning to see when the thunder happens? That’s how you know how close or far the storm is.”

“Yeah,” she admitted remembering that trick from her childhood “it doesn’t help”

“Wanna try again?” he suggested. 

She shrugged, unsure how that would stop her heart from bursting out of her chest if it kept beating this fast. 

“Don’t look at it,” he told her of the storm “I’ll watch for the lighting then we’ll count together.”

She nodded, keeping her eyes squeezed shut, taking in the familiar scent of his shirt and the blankets they were wrapped in, the air conditioner humming on in between rounds of sonic booms of thunder. Nick kept his eyes on the window and the moment he saw lightning, he began to count, encouraging her to follow along with him “one, two, three, four,” then came the thunder. It was growing closer, lingering in the heat of summer. The second lightning flashed, and they counted, one, two, three, then more thunder. When it became mixed in, thunder, lightning, pounding rain, there were no seconds to count, no moments to spare before they were encapsulated in its rage. Despite her resilience, he could not deny her the security of his hand covering her ear, so he recovered it, scratching at her head gently, hoping to soothe her in any way possible. He could no longer hear her counting as the storm raged on, muffling the air conditioner and the rest of the noises the house made. He even found himself unable to stand looking at the window anymore and he too closed his eyes, burying his face in her hair, taking in the familiar scent of her shampoo and the tickling of her curls on his face. She was the rock keeping him steady in this moment of fear at the storm and even if she didn’t look it right now, she was fierce and his reason for weathering any storm. 

As long and drawn out as it took for the storm to reach them, it finished its tantrum and began to fade. When he didn’t see lightning for a good five minutes and only heard distant rumbles of thunder, he started to relax and he felt her body do the same, her shoulders dropping, having tensed them up, her hand no longer gripped his shirt as if her life depended on it and she stopped scrunching her face. Soon, all they could hear was rain tapping gentler on the windows now. As it played a repetitive sound on the windowpane, he dropped his hand to rest on her lower back and press his fingers on different spots in tune to the beat of the raindrops as they pinged off the windows. In the glow of the dimly lit lamplight, he saw her grin and watched her squirm comfortably at the sensation. She was beginning to relax just the way he wanted her to. 

“I think it’s over,” he whispered against her forehead having pressed another kiss there. 

“Yeah,” she murmured growing tired now after being so tense for so long, shifting her body, her head resting back on the pillow. 

She uncurled her hand, feeling safe enough to not need to latch on to him and instead lay her hand flat on his chest over his heart, feeling it beat steadily and not rapidly like it had when she was hiding in his arms. 

“Nicky, I like being scared with you,” she told him, and his heart ached with adoration for her.

“I like being scared with you too darlin’,” he replied, admiring their unique relationship, it truly was not like anyone else’s. 

She managed a giggle at their choice of words to describe their situation before pointing to the light on the nightstand which he turned off, throwing them back into darkness which she was finally okay with again. Sleep would come in time, now that the world outside had settled. But in the meantime, she was not about to let him get away with stopping the incredibly tender and soothing affection of tickling her back to the rhythm of the raindrops tapping outside. She found his hand had rested still behind her and she reached for him, moving his hand to rest on her back now and say, “Keep going.”  
Grinning, delighted by her reaction, he obeyed, pressing a bit harder on her back than before, counting each tap on the windowpane like he had during the storm, one, two, three, until she was shivering at each touch, anticipating where his fingers would land next, never guessing right, her stomach tingling, no longer full of nervous butterflies. She was melting into the bed, soothed, lulled, and unlike a few moments ago, never wanting the rain to stop.


End file.
